


Brotherhood

by VitaLupum



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Asthma, Asthma attack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitaLupum/pseuds/VitaLupum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How well do you know the people you work with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherhood

"What the fuck is wrong with him?"

Scout was backing away, wide-eyed, clapping his hands over his mouth, and at that point Engineer could've murdered the little rat happily. He did not need someone panicking right now; the Sniper was on his knees, one gloved hand pawing desperately at his shirt, rasping gasps escaping his lips, and he had no idea why. It was hard to believe merely a minute or so ago he had been scrapping playfully with the Demoman, and now he was turning blue slowly before the Texan's eyes.

"Now, kid, quit yer flappin'. It ain't gonna fix it," he said flatly, and knelt next to the man. Terror-filled grey eyes stared into his, and unexpectedly he felt the stirrings of his own fright in his chest. "Snipes, what's wrong?"

"C-C-Can't…" the Australian choked, and Engineer nodded. Stay calm, Dell. Stay calm. Panicking would only make this worse.

"Scout, run for the Doc," he said, voice still cool and composed. Footsteps rang out on the metal floor. It was odd; they had been at the base for three weeks, and as he watched the Sniper, little by little, asphyxiate before him, it really reminded him he knew nothing about the man. If he were to drop off the face of the earth tomorrow, nobody on his team would be able to say anything about the quiet Australian.

"What did I do?" Demoman asked desperately, and Engineer shook his head. "I didnae touch him! Well, not his throat…"

"Vas is ze matter?" Medic asked, and Sniper looked up at him as a rabbit looks up at an oncoming train. "Get ze man stood up, Engie, Demoman."

Engineer hooked an arm around the man and, with the suddenly-sober Scot's help, got him on his feet. The Sniper took another gurgling breath, fingers scratching at his throat futilely, and the Scout clapped his hands over his ears.

" _Make him stop making that noise_!" he yelped, and Medic slapped him across the face, expressionless.

Demoman gave a snort of disbelieving laughter.

"Shut up, go avay," the Doctor said softly. The Scout did so, for once, no smart mouth answers, and Medic pulled out something from his pocket. A small, white tube, with a mouthpiece on one end and some kind of chamber at the top. He put the mouthpiece to Sniper's lips, and depressed the top with one finger.

"What is that, Doc? What's wrong with him?" Engineer asked, and cleared his throat uncertainly as he realised the shock he was feeling was beginning to seep through into his voice.

"Zis is called an inhaler," Medic said. Sniper's breathing had began to ease off slightly, and without warning he slumped into Engineer's arms. "Luckily I have read everybody's medical files. Sniper simply has a medical condition called asthma."

"Guh… guh…" Sniper muttered, and Engineer helped sit him down. The man slumped back, the panic only just beginning to leave his eyes. "Th-thanks, Engie."

"What happened?" Engineer asked, curious. He'd heard of asthma before, but wasn't really sure of what happened. His sister had gotten bronchitis one autumn when she was eleven, and they had tested her for the condition. Medic cleared his throat.

"It simply means zat if exposed to some triggers - dust, aerosol sprays, plants, pets-"

"Aerosols? Damn, Demo, you were horsin' around with some kind of spray. Kept sayin' he'd make Sniper smell better or something," Engineer sighed. Sniper nodded, and it was then that the Engineer realised how badly the man was shaking. "Is that why you don't run around so much?"

"Is he okay?" came a quiet voice from the doorway, and Scout looked in, face flushed with embarrassment and panic. Heavy was behind him, also looking concerned and confused. But then again, Engineer supposed he didn't understand enough English to know what was happening.

"Thanks for gettin' the doc, Scout," Sniper smiled, and took another needy lungful of asthma medication. "That… was fuckin' horrible."

"Why di'n't ya tell any of us, Snipes?" Demoman asked, looking almost horrifically embarassed, and Sniper shrugged.

"Well, none of us…" he coughed a little, and Medic put a hand on his shoulder, "none of us are really talkin', are we, mate? I just… I guess it never crossed my mind."

* * *

 _Never crossed my mind_.

That was the phrase cannoning around the Engineer's mind as he went to bed that night. It'd  _never crossed anyone's mind_ to actually talk to anyone about  _themselves_ , 'cept Medic and Heavy.

Medic and Heavy?

He didn't even know their  _names_.

What kind of a team didn't know each other's names? Sure, all that 'band of brothers' bullshit was something that maniac of a soldier screamed at them every day, but the thought had  _never crossed his mind_  to actually put it into practise. Well, they were a band, maybe not of brothers, but at the very least of ragtag misfits; and maybe that was  _better_ , somehow. None of that awkward family crap.

What if he died tomorrow? What if the respawn machine didn't work, and he was gone?  _Pff_ , like smoke from a campfire? Would anyone else have something to say about him? Maybe it was a little selfish, but the realization of his own mortality hit him like a fist in the solar plexus.

* * *

And so the next morning he sat himself down opposite Sniper, who was groggily gulping down a black coffee.

"Morning, Snipes," he offered, and the Australian looked up at him in curiosity. "How ya doin'?"

"Good, thanks, mate." There was a hesitative smile, and Engineer smiled back. "Thanks about yesterday."

"Oh, it's nothing. Anythin' for a team-mate," Engineer grinned. "Now, how in the hell d'ya find out you can't breathe an' not die?"

Sniper grinned back, and as they began to talk, so the first real threads of friendship were woven in the base. If Engineer had known then how close the team would grow, maybe he would've been more proud; maybe not. The contentment he felt at his self-realization was enough.


End file.
